


...and now I'm going home

by stjarna



Series: Rural Scotland AU [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 1950s, F/M, Fluff, Perthshire, Rural Scotland AU, Sequel, With a tiny hint of Pipsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-08-09 00:18:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16439567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: A sequel to "Caledonia, you're calling me" and "Five Senses" from the Rural Scotland series.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to @dilkirani and @lilsciencequeen for giving this a pre-read / betaing.
> 
> I can't believe how long it's been taking me to get this sequel started. *fingers crossed* I'll be able to update without too much delay.

Once again Jemma felt Fitz’s eyes on her, while hers tried to focus on the road, her hands nicely placed in the 10 and 2 position on the steering wheel. Her lips twitched as she struggled not to smile. When she briefly glanced in his direction, noticing him sitting there, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his expression of dreamy adoration, his teeth chewing his lower lip, she couldn’t help but grin widely, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks.

“You’re going to make me drive off the road,” she tried to reprimand him, though she couldn’t quite hide her amusement. She immediately focused back on the road, but her eyes kept darting briefly in Fitz’s direction to gauge his reaction.

“Sorry,” he mumbled quietly, his gaze wandering to his lap, before slowly lifting back at Jemma. “It’s just, I think if I stop looking at you, I’ll start to believe that it was all just a dream.” He lifted his shoulders slightly. “‘Cause how could I ever get so lucky?”

A soft smile tugged on Jemma’s lips and she couldn’t help but look at him, the sincerity in his blue irises drawing her in.

She reflexively stepped on the brakes when she noticed movement in front of the car through the corners of her eyes. The sheep bleated loudly in protest before jumping off the road and rushing away, while the car came to a screeching halt on the gravel country road.

Jemma stared at the road ahead of her for a moment in shock, her mouth gaping ajar, her heart beating frantically in her chest. She turned to look at Fitz, who had the same wide-eyed expression on his face.

“Alright. Maybe I’m too distracting,” Fitz admitted.

Jemma felt her lips immediately pull into a big smile before a wave of laughter bubbled to the surface, that seemed to infect Fitz as well. Slowly, she recovered, dabbing at the corners of her eyes to wipe away the tears of joy that had gathered there, while Fitz’s expression grew more serious again as well, his eyes glazing over while one corner of his mouth ticked up into a soft half smile.

Jemma felt her stomach churn and her heart beat quicker at the way he looked at her. When he brushed a strand of hair out of her face, the soft touch of his fingertips sent a tingle through her entire body.

For a moment the world around them seemed to disappear, as Fitz curled his fingers around the back of Jemma’s neck. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against Jemma’s before both deepened the kiss. Jemma’s hand intuitively reached up, pressing against the soft stubble on Fitz’s cheek.

They darted apart when the endless flood of angry honking swooshed by them as another car protested that they had seemingly parked right in the middle of the road.

Jemma’s heart now raced both from the excitement of their kiss and the sudden interruption, though her eyes focused on where the other vehicle disappeared in the distance, hidden behind a cloud of dust.

Slowly, she turned to look back at Fitz, whose expression was a bit sheepish as well.

“Maybe you’re right,” he muttered, almost apologetically. “We should probably try to focus more on the road and not get ourselves killed.”

Jemma bobbed her head in agreement. “Yes, that would be much preferred.”

Still, she couldn’t help the smile that pulled her lips apart, nor could she resist the urge to pull Fitz closer for another, brief kiss, before sitting up straight, facing the road and placing her hands back on the steering wheel. “Well then,” she announced importantly, her eyes quickly darting to Fitz. “Let’s try to find a less distracting topic for the rest of our journey home, shall we?”

Fitz drew in a deep breath, before exhaling sharply. “Yes. Right. How—um—how did you like that book I loaned you?”

“Oh,” Jemma exclaimed excitedly, as the motor of the car roared back on and she pressed the accelerator, “ _The Sands of Mars_? It was really quite fascinating.”

* * *

A strange sense of anxiety and sadness overcame Jemma as she turned into the driveway of the clinic, approaching the barn that served as a garage for the clinic’s and Fitz’s vehicles.

As excited and happy as she was about how Fitz’s and her relationship had evolved during their trip to the ocean, it didn’t seem like something they should make public right away. A romantic relationship between two unmarried young people who nonetheless were living under the same roof was a delicate situation and bound to be cause for rumors and exaggerations.

Jemma brought the car to a stop next to Holden’s and turned off the motor. She sighed, her lips not quite willing to be forced into a smile as she turned shyly to Fitz.

His mouth was pressed into a thin line and his nostrils widened as he inhaled deeply. “So,” he exhaled sharply, his right thumb massaging the center of his left hand.

“So,” Jemma echoed him.

His eyes fixed on where his hands rested in his lap. “Um. I suppose we should—” Slowly he raised his gaze to glance sideways at Jemma. “—or rather shouldn’t—?”

Jemma furrowed her brow, clearing her throat and swallowing against the tightness in her throat. “Yes. I think it’s probably best if we—”

“I mean they’ll just talk and make a big deal out of it, and—”

“Precisely,” Jemma agreed, raising her eyebrows. “It would put unnecessary pressure on us.”

Fitz bobbed his head in agreement. “Right.”

Jemma’s lips twitched in mischievous excitement. “Plus, keeping our romantic relationship a secret could be quite exhilarating. Stolen glances?”

“Stolen kisses?” Fitz asked, one corner of his mouth ticked up in an adorable half-smile that was both shy and daring at the same time.

Jemma couldn’t help but smile widely, her stomach tightening as a wave of warmth rushed through her body. “That too.”

Her heart beat quicker when Fitz leaned closer, his fingers tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear before pulling her to him. His lips were soft as they molded against hers and Jemma felt like she could still taste the salt of the sea on them. She chased after him when he tried to break away, kissing him again, their tongues touching for not more than a split second, yet enough time to send a jolt of electricity through Jemma.

They parted, both slightly breathless, both unable to keep from smiling as they drowned in each other’s eyes.

“So,” Fitz muttered, his fingers absentmindedly playing with Jemma’s hair.

Jemma let out a stuttering breath, somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle. “We should probably go inside,” she remarked, her gaze still lost in the blue of his irises.

Fitz cleared his throat, his hand reluctantly retreating, balling into a fist to give it something else to do. “Right.”

He drew in a deep breath, exhaling sharply and forcing his eyes away from Jemma, reaching for the car door instead.

* * *

They walked to the front door side by side, Fitz carrying their picnic basket, while Jemma held their blanket pressed against her chest. They glanced at each other every few steps, soft smiles adorning their faces, and both seemed to slow down the closer they got to the building, wanting to prolong their time alone with each other.

Fitz paused in front of the steps, slowly looking up at the door, a quiet sigh escaping him. He looked back at Jemma, wetting his lips as if he wanted to say something that, yet, they had already discussed in the car. He let out another sharp breath before opening the front door and stepping inside, holding it open to allow Jemma to enter as well.

Fitz placed the basket down on the floor and closed the door, while Jemma took off her coat, hanging it on one of the hooks on the wall. She could hear muffled sounds through the open kitchen door, and a sense of welcoming familiarity engulfed her. She looked into the hallway mirror, adjusting her hair, noticing Fitz staring at her through the corners of her eyes. A smile flashed across her face that grew bigger when Fitz quickly looked to the ground, his cheeks reddening with a blush as he tucked his hands into his pockets.

Jemma straightened her dress and took the few steps to the kitchen, feeling Fitz’s presence behind her. Agnes was standing by the stove, while Holden sat at the dining table reading a paper. Both looked at the door when Jemma entered.

“Welcome back,” Agnes said cheerily, continuing to stir the contents of her saucepan.

“Welcome back, indeed,” Holden agreed, placing his paper flat on the table in front of him and smiling widely. “So, did our dear Fitz succeed in showing you more of Scotland’s beautiful sights?”

Jemma couldn’t help but grin, looking briefly over her shoulder at Fitz, whose cheeks were once again slightly reddened. “He did indeed. It was a lovely trip.” Jemma’s stomach tightened as flashes of memories from their time at the ocean rushed through her mind.

“Excellent.” Holden bobbed his head once.

“And you came back at the perfect time,” Agnes remarked, looking over her shoulder as she grabbed a stack of plates from the cupboard. “Dinner’s just about ready.”

“Oh.” Jemma raised her eyebrows, before lifting her index finger to point at the ceiling. “Should I fetch Piper then?”

“No, she’s not here,” Agnes replied matter-of-factly while she set the table.

Jemma’s eyes widened in surprise. “She’s not?”

“No, you see, we had a surprise visitor today,” Holden began to explain. “A young American tourist. Only the poor lass was out of luck and out of money.”

“I don’t think she’s so much a tourist as a runaway, my love,” Agnes interjected, looking teasingly at her husband.

“Well, it’s not for us to judge, my dear, don’t you think?” Holden asked in return.

Agnes let out a quiet chuckle, placing her hands on her hips. “Oh, I’m not judging and you know it. But let’s call a spade a spade. I wasn’t exactly a tourist when I left Australia, was I now?”

“Well, you were madly in love with me,” Holden replied, a slight twinkle in his eyes.

Agnes’s expression softened, though she didn’t quite lose the hint of bickering mischief in her tone that Jemma had become accustomed to between the couple. “Well, that too. But a runaway madly in love no less.”

For a moment, they seemed to forget the world around them, allowing Jemma to briefly glance over her shoulder at Fitz, who looked back at her with an amused half-smile that Jemma couldn’t help but mirror.

“Well,” Holden suddenly announced loudly, looking at Jemma and Fitz and causing both to focus back on him. “Nomenclature aside, the lass needed a bit of support, so we offered her food and lodging in exchange for helping Agnes a bit around the house and keeping the clinic tip-top.”

“Oh,” Jemma exclaimed in surprise. “That’s very generous.”

Holden waved her off. “We have the space and an extra pair of hands is always welcome.”

Agnes lifted the heavy pot from the oven onto a coaster on the table. “And I think Piper enjoyed having another American around.”

“Ah, yes,” Holden waved his index finger in the air. “Which brings us back to the original topic of why our industrious nurse won’t join us for dinner tonight. It was a slow day at the clinic and once the end of the day rolled around, I thought it was well deserved for her to enjoy an evening out and show our new American guest around town. So I sent them off with the clinic’s vehicle to head to the pub.”

“Well, that sounds well deserved indeed,” Jemma agreed.

“Yes.” Agnes stood with her hands on her hips, looking across the dining table. “Just as well deserved as it is for us to enjoy dinner now.”

* * *

Jemma took a sip from her water, before setting the glass back down on the table, placing her hands on either side of her plate, and looking across the table at Agnes. “It was truly delicious, Agnes. Thank you for another lovely dinner.”

Agnes looked up, a soft smile playing on her lips. “You know you don’t have to say that every night?”

Jemma chuckled. “Well, it’s true every night.”

“You’re very welcome,” the older woman replied.

“It really was delicious, Agnes,” Fitz chimed in, quietly.

‘You’re very welcome, too, then.” Agnes looked at Holden, nudging him with her elbow. “Now what do you have to say?”

Holden looked at his wife, taking her hand in his and bringing it up to his lips to press a soft kiss against her knuckles. “My dear, your cooking is nothing but exquisite, and yet, it’s nothing compared to your wit, your charm, your gentle soul, and your stunning beauty.”

Agnes looked back at him, her expression a mix of love and tongue-in-cheek skepticism. “Oh, you’ll say anything to keep me around,” she teased him, before leaning closer to place a quick peck to Holden’s welcoming lips.

Jemma couldn’t help but smile. In the months she’d lived with Holden and Agnes, their strong bond—a perfect blend of playful bickering and genuine adoration—had always amazed her and warmed her heart. She’d always felt like her own parents had a strong marriage, and yet there was something unique and endearing about the Scottish medic and his Australian wife, an equality and mutual respect that she longed to find for herself one day. She glanced at Fitz, who seemed to look at his father and mother figures with the same warmth and adoration as herself, and Jemma’s mind wondered whether she’d already found what she’d been hoping for.

The thought seemed to excite and startle her at the same time. She cleared her throat, bringing everyone’s attention to her. She looked from person to person, smiling shyly as her heart suddenly seemed to beat quicker for no apparent reason.

“Well,” Jemma said, a tad breathless, pushing herself up to standing, the chair squeaking as it scratched across the wooden floor. “Thank you for dinner, once more, Agnes. And thank you, Fitz, for—” A shaky breath escaped her as the blue of Fitz’s irises seemed to draw her in like a magnet. “—for the lovely trip to the ocean. I—um—I think I’ll head to my room now, write a letter to my mum, and maybe call it an early night.”

“Good night, Jemma,” Agnes replied.

Holden bobbed his head in agreement. “Indeed. And we’ll see you in the morning.” He raised his index finger importantly. “Hopefully then you’ll meet the new addition to this household.”

Jemma nodded. “Right.”

Her eyes wandered to Fitz. “Good night, Fitz,” she said quietly, the room around her seemingly growing blurry, with only him left in focus.

One corner of his mouth ticked up briefly. “G’night, Jemma,” he replied softly. “Thanks for coming along today.”

Jemma couldn’t stop her lips from smiling widely. “It was my pleasure.”

“Night,” Fitz muttered again, and almost by reflex, Jemma echoed his word barely above a whisper.

Through the corners of her eyes she suddenly noticed Agnes and Holden glancing back and forth between Jemma and Fitz with seemingly a mix of amusement and confusion.

Jemma cleared her throat, straightening her dress and announcing more loudly, “Good night,” with a nod of her head, before spinning around on her heels and heading for the staircase.


	2. Chapter 2

Fitz stared at the open door, watching Jemma disappear into the hallway and hearing her walk up the stairs. It seemed strange that he’d miss her right away even though she was still in the same building, still right there, barely out of earshot, and yet it felt like an invisible force pulled him up to his feet.

His head darted back to Holden and Agnes when he realized that he was standing and they may wonder what had prompted him to get up.

“Um,” he stuttered, looking back and forth between Holden and Agnes. “I—um—” He scratched the skin below his ear, before gesturing towards the hallway with his thumb. “I’m just gonna head upstairs and take off my jumper and then come back down to help you with the dishes, Agnes.”

Agnes bobbed her head in agreement. “Thank you for offering, Fitz.”

“Right. Sure,” Fitz replied breathlessly, before clearing his throat. “I’ll be right back.”

* * *

Fitz paused once he reached the top of the stairs, turning slowly to face Jemma’s door. His heart beat somewhere in his throat and he couldn’t keep his lips from wanting to pull into a smile at the mere thought of seeing her again.

Slowly he raised his arm and knocked on the door, before bringing his hand back down, pressing his thumb into his other palm and holding his breath.

The door opened—not all the way but more than enough—and Fitz’s smile grew even wider seeing Jemma beam back at him with bright, joyful eyes.

“Hey,” Fitz exhaled, barely above a whisper, and Jemma echoed the word just as quietly.

Fitz cleared his throat. “I just—I just wanted to wish you a proper good night,” he explained, keeping his voice low, afraid the sound might travel downstairs to where Holden and Agnes were sitting in the kitchen.

The corners of Jemma’s mouth pulled even farther apart, happy crinkles forming by her eyes. She lifted her shoulders barely noticably. “I’d like that.”

Fitz drew in a slow breath, wetting his lips before biting down on his lower one. He reached forward, cupping Jemma’s face with both hands and taking half a step forward. Her palms came to rest against his chest, and it felt like they left an imprint right on his heart. He gazed down at her, hardly believing the way she looked back at him. A smile ghosted across his face, before he leaned closer to kiss her softly.

His stomach churned as their lips molded against each other, as their tongues touched and danced. He inhaled deeply as he broke the kiss, trying to take in her scent, letting each of his five senses remember every detail of this moment.

He opened his eyes, seeing Jemma’s whiskey-brown irises looking back at him with a dreamy expression.

“Good night,” she whispered, still so close to him that he could feel her breath on his lips.

One corner of Fitz’s mouth ticked up as if by reflex. “Good night.”

He wiped his thumbs across the soft skin below her eyes before letting go of her face, tucking his hands in his pockets instead. His tongue glided across his lower lip, and he could feel his heart still thumping rapidly in his chest. “Good night,” he repeated.

Jemma chuckled quietly. “You already said that,” she teased.

Fitz bobbed his head in agreement. “Yes, I did.”

Jemma sighed deeply, her hand reaching for the edge of the door. “Good night, Fitz.”

“Good night,” Fitz muttered, watching her close the door to her room.

He stared at the smooth brown surface for a moment longer, a smile still playing on his lips. He drew in a deep breath, before slowly exhaling through his mouth. He spun on his heels and headed back downstairs and into the kitchen.

He rubbed his hands together. “Alright. Ready to help.”

Agnes turned around from where she was standing by the sink to face the door. She eyed Fitz up and down before her lips began to twitch and she burst into laughter.

Fitz furrowed his brow in confusion, unable to respond to Agnes’ unusual behavior.

Holden looked up from where he was slightly leaning across the table to gather dirty dishes. He glanced first at his wife, seemingly as confused by her sudden outburst as Fitz was, before his gaze wandered to Fitz.

Then—to Fitz’s bewilderment—he started laughing as well.

“What?” Fitz exclaimed, lifting his shoulders and looking nervously back and forth between Holden and Agnes.

Holden placed the stack of plates he’d gathered back down on the table, resting one hand on his hip and gesturing with the other at Fitz. “Son, I believe you’re still wearing the jumper you went upstairs to take off.”

Fitz’s eyes darted down to inspect his clothing, his heart hammering at the realization that the excuse he’d used to get a chance to wish Jemma good night without causing suspicion had just come back to bite him in the rear.

“Um,” he muttered, clearing his throat awkwardly and scratching the side of his neck, “I—um—I realized that I—I was a bit chilly after all.” He looked back and forth between Agnes and Holden, who both had expressions of amused disbelief.

Agnes raised her eyebrows, a teasing half-smile playing on her lips. “If I had to guess, I’d say your little trip upstairs left you anything but chilly.”

“Wha—?” Fitz mumbled, though deep down he knew playing confused would not win him this battle anymore.

“ [ As in the soft and sweet eclipse, when soul meets soul on lover’s lips ](https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Page:Prometheus_Unbound_-_Shelley.djvu/150) ,” Holden declared theatrically, fanning one arm to the side as he recited “ Prometheus Unbound .”

Fitz closed his eyes in resignation, dropping his shoulders, before slowly looking back up. “We were not subtle enough, were we?”

Agnes burst into another wave of laughter, while Holden managed to suppress his chuckle somewhat better. 

“Not one bit, my dear,” he replied, shaking his head.

Fitz wrapped his hand around the back of his neck, trying to massage away the sudden tension. He dragged his teeth across his bottom lip, furrowing his brow. “You—um—you don’t seem to mind?”

“Ha!” Holden exclaimed, rounding the table and slapping his hand on Fitz’s shoulder, squeezing it firmly. “My boy, why would we mind?” He turned to look at his wife. “How long have we been waiting for this, my love?”

A wide smile spread across Agnes’ face, before she pursed her lips, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Couldn’t have been more than two weeks after Jemma started working here.”

Fitz’s eyes widened as he looked in disbelief from Agnes to Holden and back again. “Two weeks?”

“Son,” Holden gave Fitz’s shoulder another squeeze, “to me it was clear as day that the two of you shared a special connection from the first night she was here. I don’t think just any stranger could have calmed you the way she did. And I don’t think just any stranger could have talked to you the way she did the next day and gotten away with it, let alone cause you to seek out her help.”

Fitz scoffed quietly, one corner of his mouth ticking up at the memory.

“I knew from the moment I received her application,” Holden continued, his soft voice calm and thoughtful, “that I had found a remarkable human being, a talented young physician, and a valuable partner to my clinic, but—” He paused, shrugging slightly, his hand still resting on Fitz’s shoulder, “—if I so happen to have found myself a quasi daughter-in-law in the process, I could not have made a better choice.”

Fitz’s lips parted in shock. “Daughter—what?” He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb, feeling his heart race in sudden panic. “We just—we just—today—we just—today,” he stammered, panting breathlessly, before swallowing hard. “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself a little bit there.”

Holden laughed quietly, patting Fitz’s shoulder. “The thought has crossed your mind though, hasn’t it? Even before today? A dream? A wish? A hope?”

Fitz stared at him wide-eyed, his mouth slightly ajar, his stomach in knots. He closed and parted his lips a few times like a fish out of water, before stammering. “Well, but—”

Holden took a step to the side, wrapping his arm around Agnes’ waist and pulling her closer. He looked at his wife, smiling softly. “It wasn’t long after I met this beautiful soul that I knew our bond was meant to last a lifetime.” 

Agnes placed her palm against Holden’s chest, patting it in teasing appeasement. “And taking me halfway around the globe gave you a bit of extra assurance that I wouldn’t go anywhere else, didn’t it?”

“Ha,” Holden leaned forward to place a quick kiss to his wife’s lips, before looking at Fitz, raising his free index finger importantly in the air. “Only true love tolerates such teasing and bickering. Mark my word.”

Fitz chuckled, tucking his hands in his pockets and dropping his gaze to the floor, his expression growing more somber as his mind pondered everything Holden had said. He looked back up when his father-figure’s voice broke through the silence.

“Son,” Holden said calmly, “there’s certainly no need to rush, but there’s also no need to deny yourself from thinking about the future.”

Fitz’s lips pulled into a one-sided smile. His eyes wandered to Agnes, who shared her husband’s soft and encouraging expression. Fitz bobbed his head. “Thanks.”

Holden gave a little nod. “Anytime, my boy.”

“Now,” Agnes announced, sternly, yet unable to hide a kind smirk, “how about you help me with the dishes as promised?”

Fitz let out a quiet laugh. “Gladly.”

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to @dilkirani for the beta.
> 
> Sorry for the delay. Life is busy :) But to make up for it, I raised the tentative chapter count from 4 to 5.

Jemma drew in a slow breath, her ears picking up the crunching of the pebbles beneath her feet as Holden’s home came back into view. She couldn’t help but smile when she felt Fitz gently squeezing her hand. Her gaze intuitively wandered down to where their fingers intertwined, their arms gently swaying back and forth as they walked together. She looked sideways at Fitz, his eyes seemingly focussed on where his feet kicked up small stones on the path.

“You’re slowing down,” Jemma said, the corners of her mouth twitching briefly in amusement.

Fitz looked up in surprise. “Hm?”

Jemma’s lips pulled wide in amusement. “You’re slowing down.”

Fitz pursed his lips. “Am I?’

“You sure are,” Jemma remarked, teasingly.

One corner of Fitz’s mouth ticked up and his eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. “Guess my feet are getting tired after this incredibly long walk.”

“Mmm,” Jemma hummed, unable to hide a grin. “Yes, half an hour really seems like a bit too much. I don’t know what we were thinking.”

Fitz stopped, gently tugging on Jemma’s hand, causing her forward movement to halt as well and her body to turn to face him instead. “I think it’s best if we take a short break before we continue, don’t you think?”

Jemma slid her arms up Fitz’s chest and around the back of his neck, her fingers reflexively beginning to play with his soft hair. “Yes, that seems highly advisable—in my professional opinion as a physician. We should not exert ourselves too much. It could have detrimental health effects.”

Fitz’s lips pulled into a wide smile that Jemma couldn’t help but mirror. Her stomach churned as he leaned closer, kissing her tenderly.

It had been not quite two months since that day Fitz had taken her to the ocean and their friendship had turned into something more. Their secret relationship had lasted all through one dinner—if that. On the one hand, it had been nice that they didn’t have to hide their romance. On the other, the teasing looks and quippy remarks from the rest of the household—including the new arrival, Daisy Johnson—made Jemma long for a bit more privacy on occasion.

“Thank you for the walk,” Jemma breathed against Fitz’s mouth.

He tucked a strand of her hair behind Jemma’s ear, a soft smile playing on his lips. “It was nice to get away from the prying eyes for a bit, wasn’t it?” Fitz remarked, as if he had read her mind.

Jemma nodded in agreement. “Indeed.” She glanced in the direction of the house, before looking back at Fitz. “Though I’m willing to bet that at least one pair of prying eyes is presumably eyeing us through the kitchen window as we speak.”

Fitz scoffed in amusement. He looked at the building, before gazing back at Jemma, tightening his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. “Well, then, let’s at least give them something to talk about.”

He closed the narrow gap between them, his tongue gently sliding against Jemma’s lower lip, demanding to dance with hers.

“Mmm,” Jemma hummed when they broke the kiss. “Well, that was rather pleasant.”

“Master of the understatement,” Fitz replied, giving Jemma another quick peck, before releasing her waist and extending his hand in her direction. “Shall we? I’m getting a bit peckish. If we’re lucky, Agnes still has some of those biscuits left.”

“Hmm, I would enjoy a cup of tea and some biscuits myself.” Jemma interlaced her fingers with Fitz’s, before she turned on her heels, facing the building. “Let’s go.”

They walked the rest of the way to the house. Fitz opened the door, allowing Jemma to enter first. Jemma smiled as she passed him.

“Well, hold on, hold on. Turns out you’re in luck. She just walked in.”

Jemma turned her head in surprise, as her ears picked up what Agnes had said. Holden’s wife was standing in the hallway, one hand gesturing at Jemma, while the other pressed the phone to her ear. “Well, of course you may speak to her,” Agnes told the person on the other end of the line, cheerily. She extended the handset in Jemma’s direction, smiling widely. “It’s your mother.”

Jemma’s eyes widened in surprise. She quickly glanced over her shoulder at Fitz, who seemed to have frozen mid-hanging-up-his-jacket.

“Oh,” Jemma looked back at Agnes. “Yes, of course. Just one second.” She quickly took off her coat, hung it up on the hook by the door, smoothed her dress, and then approached Agnes, taking the phone from her and exhaling sharply before bringing it up to her ear. “Mum, is everything alright?” she asked, her heart beating nervously in her chest.

She watched Agnes go back into the kitchen, followed by Fitz whose eyes were nonetheless fixed worriedly at Jemma.

“Well, of course, my dear. Everything is just fine,” Jemma’s mum remarked, causing Jemma to shift focus on the phone conversation. “Your father finally broke down and bought a telephone. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Oh,” Jemma widened her eyes, an awkward chuckle escaping her. “Yes, very exciting indeed.”

“And what better way to christen it than by placing my inaugural phone call to my daughter?”

“I couldn’t think of any better way,” Jemma replied, her heart slowly calming down after the initial worry that something had happened to cause the unexpected call.

“Well then, my dear, how are things in the far north?”

Jemma laughed. “I wouldn’t exactly call Perthshire the far north, Mum.”

“Well, it’s certainly farther north than Sheffield.”

“That it is,” Jemma concurred, ticking her head to one side. “And I’m doing just fine, Mother. The clinic is keeping me plenty busy.”

“Not too busy to welcome your parents for a visit, I hope?”

Jemma straightened her head in surprise. “What?”

“This weekend actually, we were hoping.”

“Oh.” Jemma widened her eyes, her heart suddenly beating quicker again. “You want to—you want to visit.”

“Yes.”

Jemma cleared her throat. “And this weekend already?” she asked, noticing how breathless she sounded.

“Yes,” her mother confirmed. “We’d love to finally see where you’ve spent the last few months.”

“Oh, well—”

“Do you think it will be a problem?”

“Um,” Jemma coughed quietly, her throat unbearably dry. “Um, well, I suppose not—presumably not.”

“Well, excellent,” her mother exclaimed excitedly. “It would give us a chance to also meet that young gentleman you mentioned in your last letter.”

“Oh.” Jemma felt a knot in her stomach, her eyes briefly darting in the direction of the kitchen where she could see Fitz, his eyes fixed on her, his expression full of worry. “Yes. I—I suppose it would, wouldn’t it?”

“Well, my dear, let’s not drag out this phone call unnecessarily, or your father will talk off my ear about the cost of it all.”

“No, of course. We wouldn’t want—”

“We’ll see you some time Friday then. Around dinner time, I would assume.”

Jemma pressed her lips into a close-mouthed smile. “Excellent.”

“Oh, how very exciting. We’re rather looking forward to seeing you again.”

Jemma exhaled a sharp breath. “Yes, I’m quite excited myself.”

“Well, then, my dear, we’ll see you soon.”

“Yes, give Dad my love,” Jemma said almost reflexively.

“Of course, love. Good-bye.”

The call disconnected, and yet Jemma was unable to move, her head spinning with the unexpected conversation she’d just held.

Finally, she inhaled deeply, looking at the handset in her hand, before placing it back onto its cradle. She let out a sharp breath, before turning around, putting on a wide smile and entering the kitchen.

“Is everything alright?” Fitz asked, worry lacing his tone.

Jemma chuckled awkwardly, wringing her hands. “Yes, quite alright. My parents got a phone, apparently, and my mother decided to celebrate by calling me.”

Holden looked up from his newspaper. “The perfect choice for such a momentous occasion.”

“Yes.” Jemma cleared her throat, avoiding Fitz’s eyes. “Agnes, Holden, would it be much trouble if my parents came to visit?” She swallowed, before wetting her lips. “This weekend.”

Agnes wiped her hands off on her apron, glancing at her husband as if to receive silent confirmation, before looking back at Jemma. “No trouble at all.”

Holden folded up his newspaper, placing it down on the table, gesturing towards the door. “We’ll just get a room ready at the clinic for them.”

“Or—” Daisy suddenly piped up, raising her index finger in the air, excitedly, before gesturing with her thumb at Piper who was sitting next to her, “—or Piper and I could share my room and your parents can have her room. I mean they’d probably prefer to stay in the same house as you, right?”

“Oh,” Jemma muttered in surprise.

“Yeah, yeah, no,” Piper chimed in. “That’s a great idea.”

“Well, but I wouldn’t want to banish you from your room, Piper,” Jemma remarked, gesturing at Daisy. “And Daisy’s bed is rather narrow.”

Piper scoffed, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Please, at the front I had to share a cot with two other people. Daisy and I will have plenty of space. It’ll be like a slumber party.”

“You sure you don’t mind?” Jemma asked, furrowing her brow. “It’s awfully kind of both of you to offer.”

“Don’t mind at all,” Piper replied, smiling widely, while Daisy added, “Yeah, not at all.”

Jemma smiled, though it felt a bit forced. “Well, thank you then.” She looked back at Holden and Agnes, raising her hands palms-up in their direction. “And you, too, of course. And my apologies for the short notice.”

“No problem at all,” Agnes replied, smiling widely.

Jemma’s gaze wandered to the floor; she swallowed, before glancing at Fitz. He seemed to be staring at nothing in front of him, his upper teeth gnawing his lower lip.

“Fitz,” Jemma said.

His head shot up, his eyes wide like a deer in the headlights, the “Yes” he muttered barely more than a quiet breath.

Jemma squeezed her own hands. “May I speak with you in the hallway for just a moment?”

Fitz exhaled a sharp breath, shifting nervously in his seat, before pushing his chair back. “Um, yes, of course.” He pulled his trousers up, cleared his throat and headed for the door, passing Jemma and rushing with fast steps to the end of the hallway, as if only the closed front door stopped him from running further.

He spun around on his heels, rubbing his hands together, before one flew up to the back of his neck. “So, your parents are visiting?” he asked breathlessly, scratching the skin below his ear.

“Yes,” Jemma replied, picking at her finger nails. “And, I have a feeling that you’re the main reason for their impromptu visit, I’m afraid.”

Fitz’s eyes grew wide, as he pressed both hands into his chest. “Me?”

Jemma nodded. “I may have mentioned you in my last letter to my mother.”

“You told them we’re—” Fitz squeaked, waving his index finger back and forth between Jemma and himself, seemingly unable to finish the sentence.

“No,” Jemma exclaimed, raising both hands in front of herself, before turning them palms-up. “I just mentioned that we were getting along well, but—” She drew in a stuttering breath. “Maybe I wasn’t as subtle as I thought I was.”

Fitz rubbed his face with both hands, letting out a quiet groan, before exhaling sharply, placing his hands on his hips. “Okay. Alright.” He shrugged. “I suppose I was going to meet them sooner or later anyways, right?”

Jemma couldn’t help but smile in relief. “Yes. I just wish it would have been more on our terms.”

Fitz inhaled slowly, chewing his lower lip and furrowing his brow. “What if they don’t like me?”

Jemma let out a sound between a chuckle and a sigh, dropping her shoulders. “Oh, Fitz,” she rushed over to where he stood, cupping his face, his hands seemingly reflexively sliding to her hips. “I think they will like you, and even if they shouldn’t, know that I do—nothing will change that, not even my parents.”

Fitz scoffed, one corner of his mouth ticking up, and yet his expression still full of worry. “What do I have to offer?”

Jemma combed her fingers through his hair, before her palms pressed against his cheeks again, her thumbs gently caressing the soft skin below his eyes. “Yourself. Just the way you are. And believe me, that is more than enough.”

A smile ghosted across his face, his blue irises growing soft. He held her gaze for a moment, before leaning closer, pressing his lips against hers.


	4. Chapter 4

“So, Mr. Fitz—?” Mrs. Simmons placed her cutlery down on her empty plate and wiped off her mouth with her napkin.

Fitz’s head shot up when he heard Jemma’s mother address him. “Just Fitz,” he muttered reflexively, though Mrs. Simmons didn’t seem to pay his interjection much heed.

“—our daughter tells us you have your own business?” she remarked, smiling in an overly friendly manner. “A mechanic of sorts?”

“Umm. Yes.” Fitz’s eyes darted briefly in Jemma’s direction, who was sitting next to her parents, gazing apologetically back at him. “I—I basically repair everything in the district. Cars. Farm equipment. Telephones. Radios. That sort of thing.” He gestured over his shoulder towards the kitchen door. “And—and I do deliveries for the shop in the wee town you drove through. Saves them and their customers a trip and gives me some extra income.”

“Hmm. Fascinating.” Mrs. Simmons replied, bobbing her head. “So, are you from around here?”

“Oh, umm, no.” Fitz shook his head. “I’m from Glasgow. Though I’ve lived here with Holden and Agnes since I was 15.”

“Oh really?” Mrs. Simmons pulled her lips into a close-mouthed smile, looking briefly at Holden and Agnes before returning her focus to Fitz. “And your family?”

“I—I don’t have any family,” Fitz stuttered, feeling his shirt clinging more tightly to his back as sweat started to form. He shrugged. “The war, you know?”

“Oh.” Mrs. Simmons ticked her head to one side in pity. “My condolences.”

One corner of Fitz’s mouth ticked up in an attempt to force an understanding smile. “Though I mean—” He scratched the skin below his ear. “Holden and Agnes are basically my family now.”

 _And you_ , he wanted to say, looking at Jemma, but not daring to say it aloud in front of her parents.

“That’s wonderful,” Mrs. Simmons remarked, though Fitz couldn’t help but find her tone a bit condescending.

Fitz nodded politely, glancing at Holden and Agnes who both wore expressions of warmth and gratefulness.

“So, you never went to university?” Jemma’s mother continued her seemingly endless stream of questions. “Study engineering or some such.”

“Oh. Umm—No.” Fitz cleared his throat. “Again, the war. And then after the war, I—I—” Fitz paused, balling his hand into a fist when he felt it starting to tremble. “It just wasn’t in the cards for me,” he said quietly, looking at his plate.

“But the district sure wouldn’t know what to do without him,” Agnes chimed in, causing Fitz to look back up. “Isn’t that right, Holden?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Holden replied, waving his index finger in the air. “Degree or not, this young man is the best engineer around. No doubt about it.”

Fitz couldn’t help the little smile that tugged on his lips at his friends’ kind words.

“Well,” Mrs. Simmons declared, placing her hands left and right of her plate, and once again smiling politely but maybe just a little forced. “Agnes, thank you so much for a wonderful dinner.”

“It was my pleasure,” Agnes replied, bowing her head to accept the compliment.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Mrs. Simmons pushed herself up to standing, “the long journey left me a bit tired, so I will retire to our room.”

“Oh, of course. If you need anything—” Holden tried to chime in.

“That’s very kind of you, Doctor Radcliffe,” Jemma’s mother interjected, before turning her head to look down at her daughter. “Jemma, my dear, would you lead the way, please?”

Jemma looked wide-eyed at her mother, her lips parted in surprise. “Oh, of course, Mum.”

She picked her napkin up from her lap, wiped her mouth clean and placed it on her plate, before pushing her chair back and standing up. Her eyes met Fitz’s, and he noticed the corners of her mouth ticking up barely noticeably.

Fitz watched as both women left the room, craning his neck to try and catch a glimpse of them heading up the stairs.

“So, Mr. Simmons,” Holden’s booming voice interrupted Fitz’s thoughts, “how about we retreat to the living room? I believe I have a very fine 18-year-old Scotch that’s calling to us.”

Jemma’s father let out a deep laugh, slapping his palm on the table top. “That is an offer I shall not decline, Doctor Radcliffe.”

“Fitz, my boy,” Holden addressed him, “care to join us?”

“Oh—um,” Fitz looked at his father-figure wide-eyed and panicked. “I—I’ll help Agnes clean up.”

“Are you sure?” Holden asked, furrowing his brow and gesturing at the two remaining guests at the table. “I bet Piper and Daisy would gladly offer.”

“No, really,” Fitz replied quickly, raising his hands. “It’s fine. I’ll help.”

“Very well then.” Holden bobbed his head, before standing up, gesturing towards the hallway. “Shall we, Mr. Simmons.”

Mr. Simmons pursed his lips. “Lead the way.”

Fitz watched them leave, getting halfway out of his seat and beginning to absentmindedly gather some of the plates.

“Piper, Daisy, why don’t you take the car and head to town? I heard there’s a dance tonight. Most handsome lads of the district might be there,” he heard Agnes say, though her voice barely made it through the fog around his mind.

He also missed Piper and Daisy’s reply, though he noticed both women leaving the room through the corners of his eyes.

“You know, you really didn’t have to offer,” Agnes suddenly said right next to him, causing Fitz’s head to shoot up in surprise.

“I know,” he muttered quietly, shrugging slightly. “I just—”

“—had enough interrogations for one evening?” Agnes guessed, smiling warmly.

Fitz scoffed, bobbing his head in confirmation. “Something like that.”

“Well, in that case—” Agnes beamed at him full of mischief, placing another plate on top of the stack in his hands. “—make yourself useful.”

Fitz chuckled quietly. “Aye-aye.”

* * *

Fitz sat at the desk in his room, his eyes wandering across the pages of his book, dimly illuminated by his desk lamp. Absentmindedly, he glanced at his wristwatch. The clock was approaching 11.

He’d heard Jemma bid her mother goodnight half an hour ago, and imagined that Mrs. Simmons had put her daughter through an interrogation similar to the one she’d conducted with him during dinner.

He hadn’t dared knock on Jemma’s room then, too nervous that her parents would catch wind of it. Instead he’d returned to his book, hoping that maybe Jemma would be braver than he was.

A smile flashed across his face when he heard a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he answered, looking at the door. His eyes widened when, instead of Jemma, her father stepped inside, pushing the door closed behind him.

Fitz scrambled to his feet, wiping his hands off on his trousers. “Mr. Simmons, how can I—? What can I—?”

Mr. Simmons stepped closer, tucking his hands into his pockets and pushing his chest out. “My wife isn’t shy about asking the questions she wants answered,” he remarked matter-of-factly, walking further into the room, his eyes scanning Fitz’s belongings before landing on Fitz himself. “But I prefer to discuss such things in privacy, Mr. Fitz.”

“Oh,” Fitz muttered quietly, clearing his throat. “Of course. And—and just Fitz, please.”

“Mr. Fitz,” Jemma’s father said sternly, either not hearing or deliberately ignoring Fitz’s request, “my daughter is clearly very fond of you.”

“Well, I am—”

“How old are you?” Mr. Simmons asked, not giving Fitz a chance to finish his sentence.

Fitz furrowed his brow in mild confusion. “Umm—same as Jemma. Well, 23 days older, actually.”

Mr. Simmons slowly nodded, eyeing Fitz up and down. “So, you’re old enough to—”

Fitz drew in a deep breath, bobbing his head. “Yes, I went to war,” he interrupted the older man.

One corner of Mr. Simmons’ mouth ticked up briefly, seemingly impressed with how Fitz had anticipated his question. “You were quite young, though.”

Fitz nodded, tucking his hands into his pockets, mirroring Mr. Simmons’ stance. “Just turned 18. 1943. Made it about six months and came back a bit battered—both inside and out. In fact, Jemma helped me a lot with—with some of the demons I battled.” He paused, fixing his eyes firmly on the man standing across from him. “I believe you know a thing or two about that.”

Fitz stared at the other man, his heart beating rapidly in his chest as he anticipated Mr. Simmons’ reaction.

Jemma’s father’s lips twitched, before he scoffed quietly. “I sure do. She can be quite stubborn, can’t she?”

One corner of Fitz’s mouth ticked up. “Sure can.”

Mr. Simmons looked Fitz up and down, inhaling deeply, before lifting his chin in Fitz’s direction. “I remember youngins like you from the front. Many of them seemed very eager to—make certain experiences—with women. Things they hoped to do before facing possible death. If you know what I mean.”

Fitz cleared his throat. “Yes. I know what you mean.”

“So, were you one of these youngins?” Mr. Simmons’ eyes narrowed in on Fitz challengingly.

An amused puff of air escaped Fitz’s nostrils. “Some of the older blokes in my unit sure thought I needed to have that kind of experience. Took me to a—well—establishment.” He shook his head, smiling one-sidedly. “But I couldn’t. Didn’t feel right. Ended up repairing the gal’s radio instead, though she told my mates we’d done it so they’d shut up about it.”

Jemma’s father looked at him in silence for a moment, seemingly evaluating his response. “Is it your intention to have this experience with my daughter now?”

“What?” Fitz exclaimed, wrinkling his forehead in disbelief and shaking his head. “No. I mean—” He shrugged, sighing deeply, “—sure I’ve thought about it, but not—that’s not why I—”

“Then what exactly are your intentions for my daughter, Mr. Fitz?” Mr. Simmons asked, his voice sterner than before.

Fitz stared at the older man across from him, feeling anger bringing his blood to a boil, his jaw tightening. He wet his lips, exhaling a cleansing breath.

“I love her,” he said calmly, meeting Mr. Simmons’ gaze with confidence. “And I consider myself lucky that she seems to—” He paused, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips as he felt his eyes fill with tears. “I intend to give her anything I can offer, anything she’ll accept. I intend to spend every moment with her that she can tolerate, and I hope to make her happy. I intend to love her. Those are my intentions, sir.”

Mr. Simmons’ expression was unreadable. “You agreed earlier that she can be quite stubborn,” he remarked matter-of-factly. “You love her despite that?”

One corner of Fitz’s mouth quirked up as he shook his head slightly. “I love her _because_ of that. I love how strong-willed she is, how passionate about things that are important to her.” Fitz gestured at the door, picturing Jemma across the hallway in her bedroom. “She’s brilliant, and kind, and—there’s not one thing about her I would change.”

Fitz dropped his hand back to his side, his gaze wandering to the ground.

Mr. Simmons stepped closer and Fitz felt his muscles tense at the movement. He relaxed when Jemma’s father extended his hand for a handshake. “I appreciate your honesty, Mr. Fitz.”

Fitz accepted the handshake, though his hand briefly trembled with hesitation. “I figure lying isn’t the way to earn the respect of the parents of the woman I love.”

A gentle smile played on Mr. Simmons’s lips as he released Fitz’s hand. “You may be right about that.” He pulled out his pocket watch, checking the time before stuffing it back, placing his hand on Fitz’s shoulder instead and giving it a firm squeeze. “Well, son, I believe I’ve taken up enough of your time. We’ll see you at breakfast, I presume.”

Fitz bobbed his head, still slightly surprised by the older man’s sudden change in tone. “Yes, sir.”

“Call me James, Mr. Fitz.”

Fitz couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, sir—James. And it’s Fitz. Just Fitz, please.”

Mr. Simmons bobbed his head, pursing his lips in understanding. “Good night, Fitz.”

Fitz watched Jemma’s father leave his room and close the door behind him. He stared at the wooden surface for a long minute, replaying everything that had just happened in his head, before scoffing quietly and spinning on his heels to head back to his desk.

He sat back down, trying to find the spot where he’d left off. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes later when a quiet knock caused him to look back up. He rolled his eyes, assuming Mr. Simmons had either changed his mind or Mrs. Simmons had decided her interrogation at dinner hadn’t been quite thorough enough.

“Yes?” Fitz sighed.

The door opened and Jemma’s head poked in, causing Fitz to jump up, almost making his chair tumble over.

“Hi,” he exhaled, smiling widely.

“Hi,” Jemma whispered in return, quietly closing the door behind herself, before turning back to look at Fitz, her fingers nervously playing with each other. “So, I take it my Dad paid you a little visit?”

Fitz pressed his lips into a thin line, bobbing his head. “Yes.”

Jemma wandered a few steps closer, her dress swaying back and forth with each step. “And my Mum was certainly very curious during dinner as well.”

Fitz pursed his lips, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Was she? Didn’t even notice.”

Jemma laughed out loud, taking another step forward until she stood in front of Fitz. “I’m sorry, Fitz.”

Fitz shrugged. “I think it went—”

He inhaled a sharp breath when Jemma suddenly cupped his cheeks, pressing her lips against his.

He looked at her in surprise when she broke the kiss, yet unable to keep from smiling as his hands found a resting spot on her hips. “What was that for?”

“For everything you said,” Jemma said quietly, her thumbs stroking the soft skin beneath Fitz’s eyes. She furrowed her brow in pretend sternness. “Admittedly, I’m a bit peeved you would tell my father you love me before telling me, but—”

Fitz’s eyes widened in surprise. “You heard that?”

Jemma nodded, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “I heard him come upstairs and knock on your door and when I peeked outside I saw that he hadn’t fully closed the door. I couldn’t resist.” She shrugged apologetically, before her expression grew more serious, her eyes searching Fitz’s. “Did you mean it?”

“Every word,” Fitz admitted quietly, pulling her closer. “I love you, Jemma.”

She beamed at him bright-eyed. “I love you, too, Fitz.”

Fitz leaned closer, allowing their lips to dance across each other, before he broke the kiss. “So you heard—everything?”

Jemma nodded in silence.

Fitz cleared his throat. “Even the thing about—certain experiences?”

She bobbed her head, trying to suppress a chuckle, before wetting her lips. “So, you’ve never—?”

“No.” Fitz shook his head. “Y-you?”

“No,” Jemma replied, her lips ticked up into a mysterious smile. “Though I’ve certainly been thinking about it as well.”

“Really?” Fitz felt his heartbeat quicken.

“Yes,” she whispered, her fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Though I suppose tonight is out of the question.”

Fitz laughed, yet tried to keep it quiet. “Yes,” he chuckled, “I’d rather not destroy any headway I made with your parents today.”

Jemma snickered as well before pulling Fitz closer, pressing her lips softly against his for a tender kiss. She gazed into his eyes, sighing deeply before taking a few steps back towards the door. “Good night, Fitz,” she said quietly, reaching for the handle.

“Good night, Jemma.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now you know how the meeting with the parents went. What did you think?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @dilkirani and @lilsciencequeen.

Jemma leaned forward, looking left and right out of the front window of the car, watching the trees of the forest surrounding the narrow country road fly by them. “Where are you taking me again?”

Fitz quickly glanced to the side, one corner of his mouth quirking up into a mischievous grin. “We’re almost there.”

“That does _not_ answer my question,” Jemma teased him, unable to suppress an amused chuckle.

“It’s a surprise,” Fitz replied, without taking his eyes off the road.

Jemma furrowed her brow over the nervous tremor in his voice, but her focus shifted to the front of the car when Fitz stepped on the brakes, the pebbles screeching beneath the tires of the car as it came to a stop in front of a cottage that clearly had seen better days.

Fitz exhaled sharply, turning off the motor. “We’re here.”

He opened the door and got out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him. Jemma watched him in confusion through the window before getting out herself, wrinkling her forehead and shaking her head as she stared at the grey stone building with its broken windows and overgrown plants. “What is this place?”

Fitz walked around the car, extending his hand in Jemma’s direction and pressing his lips into a thin line. “Let me show you,” he said quietly.

Jemma gazed into his blue eyes, unable to keep her lips from pulling into a hint of a smile. “Alright,” she replied, accepting his hand.

He exhaled in relief, wrapping his fingers tightly around hers and turning towards the building. He walked up to the front door, pushing the creaking door open.

“Are we allowed to be here?” Jemma asked, nervously, as she followed Fitz into the house, her eyes wandering left and right, trying to figure out why Fitz had brought her here.

“Yes,” Fitz replied matter-of-factly, pulling Jemma down the hallway, before turning right into one of the rooms.

Jemma’s lips parted in surprise and shock. She scanned the room, the broken furniture, shattered pieces of glass and porcelain, the half-ripped off wallpaper. But what caught her attention the most was the writing on the walls, the large crooked letters, the black fingerprints of the charcoal used to spell out the words.

 _I am_ , it said over and over again, except for a spot close to the ground, where a trembling hand had finished the sentence _I am alive_ , as if the person who’d written it had sunk to the floor in exhaustion.

Jemma felt her eyes well up, her heart racing anxiously, as she anticipated an explanation from Fitz, unable to take her eyes off the walls.

“Right after the war, the terrors were a lot worse,” he began quietly, causing Jemma to glance in his direction. He stood with his hands in his pockets, his gaze to the floor, the tip of his shoe tapping the floor. “Didn’t just wake up and hide in a corner. Sometimes, I’d bolt.” He looked at her through the corners of his eyes, briefly lifting his chin. “I’d relive it, and somewhere between sleeping and waking, I’d just take off. Just started running.” He drew in a deep breath, looking at Jemma more directly. “One time I got caught in a storm. It was pissing down on me for hours.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Was completely drenched by the time McKinley found me and brought me back home.”

“McKinley?” Jemma furrowed her brow. “That’s miles away.”

Fitz scoffed, pressing his lips into a pained grin. “Always made good headway.” He exhaled sharply. “Anyway, I caught pneumonia. High fever for days. Delirious really. Only problem was, the terrors just got worse. One night, I bolted again. Don’t remember much, but—somehow I ended up here.” His eyes wandered around the room. “The place had been deserted for years. Guess maybe I was trying to find shelter. Holden said it took three days and the entire district to find me.”

He lifted his chin in the direction of the spot by the floor, where _I am alive_ was written in charcoal letters. “Found me right there, he said. More dead than alive.” Fitz wet his lips, and Jemma noticed a sad shimmer in his eyes. “Once I recovered, Holden brought me back here. I couldn’t remember it all, but bits and pieces came back. I remembered that I couldn’t finish that sentence.” He gazed at the walls, the same words written over and over again. “I am. I am. I am. But I couldn’t finish it. I wreaked havoc on this place. Don’t remember writing that—” He looked at the finished sentence on the wall close to the ground.

He pressed his lips into a thin line, letting out a quiet sigh. “Holden bought the place from the district after that. He said, maybe I needed a place to let my demons out.” He scoffed. “And that’s what I did. Whenever things got too much, whenever I was angry, I’d come here and take the place apart.” He chuckled sadly, shaking his head. “I swear Holden brought furniture here from time to time, so I wouldn’t run out of things to smash and break.”

He sighed, looking around the room, before his eyes landed on Jemma. “This house was me. Broken, torn, battered, and bruised.” He gazed at her, chewing his bottom lip as if he were carefully pondering his next words. “I came here after your first night here. Remember how I woke up that night? With terrors. And the next morning, you—”

“I’m sorry, Fitz.” Jemma shook her head apologetically, feeling a knot in her throat. “I’m sorry I upset you that day. I just—”

A smile flashed across Fitz’s face. “No. Don’t be. You’re the reason I—” He inhaled deeply, his eyes once again wandering around the room before landing back on her. “I was mad that day. I thought ‘How dare she,’ but when I came here, ready to let my anger out, I—I couldn’t. I couldn’t because you had done nothing to deserve it. You’d said nothing that wasn’t true. I stood here, balling my fists, but every time I tried to do something, I heard your voice: ‘My door is always open.’”

A soft smile played on his lips that Jemma couldn’t help but mirror.

Fitz lifted his shoulders. “And eventually, I left and went back home.” He scoffed, grinning one-sidedly. “And maybe it took me a week to work up the courage to talk to you, but—but that day was the last time I came here.”

Jemma beamed at him in silent amazement, unsure of how to respond.

Fitz bit his lower lip. “Until two weeks ago. A few days after your parents left.”

Jemma slumped her shoulders, taking a step towards him, her hands nervously reaching out to offer reassurance. “Oh, Fitz, I’m so sorry. I know they were—”

“No, no no no.” Fitz interjected, laughing quietly. “It wasn’t because of them. They were—they were a bit intense at first, but I actually think the visit went really well.”

“Oh,” Jemma exclaimed in a mix of relief and confusion. “Alright.”

“No, I just—it was just—it was a few days after they’d left. I made a delivery and on my way back, I came by the fork in the road and I stopped.” Fitz shrugged. “I’m not sure why, but suddenly I felt like I needed to see this place again. I turned onto the road and I came back here and walked in and I saw all this.” He spun around once, fanning his arms to the side. “This torn-up mess that once was the perfect representation of myself, and I realized that’s not me anymore. This is not how I feel anymore.” He pressed his fingers into his chest, before stepping in front of Jemma, taking her hands into his. “And you’re the main reason why.”

Jemma felt tears of joy rim her eyes, and her lips pulled into a wide smile. “Oh, Fitz.”

He looked at her, full of love and excitement. “And suddenly I wondered what it would look like if I fixed it up.” He glanced around the room. “I didn’t see everything that was wrong with it anymore. I saw its potential.”

Jemma smiled, a bit unsure of what he was getting at.

Fitz exhaled sharply. “So, I asked Holden if I could buy it from him—for us.”

Jemma gasped in surprise, looking at him wide-eyed. “For us?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

“I know it’s not much. I know it’s small, but—but I think it could be just right.” Fitz let go of one of Jemma’s hands, gesturing to the side with his now free hand, while the other remained tightly wrapped around her fingers. “It’s not far from the clinic and it’s at a perfect spot in the district, very central. And I promise, indoor plumbing would be the first thing I would put in, and—”

“Fitz,” Jemma exclaimed, trying to get his attention.

“Yes?”

Jemma stared at him, her heart racing in her chest. “Are you suggesting—?”

Jemma gasped when Fitz’s eyes welled up as he reached for his coat pocket with trembling hands, pulling out a simple gold ring with a single white pearl. “Jemma Anne Simmons, M.D.—will you marry me?” he asked breathlessly, a nervous smile ghosting across his face.

Jemma let out a sound between a laugh and a sob, her lips pulling into a wide smile, as she cupped Fitz’s face, kissing him in exuberant joy. “Yes, of course I will.”

Fitz kissed her back briefly, sniffling away tears of joy, as he took Jemma’s left hand in his, sliding the ring onto her finger. He exhaled a sigh of relief, a tear jumping off his lashes, which he wiped away with the heel of his hand. “It fits.”

Jemma raised her hand in front of herself, admiring her engagement ring. “Oh, Fitz. It’s beautiful.” She let out a quiet laugh. “I can’t believe you got a ring and everything.”

“It was my mum’s,” he admitted quietly, grabbing Jemma’s hand, his thumb gliding across the pearl of the ring. “Not—not the one she got from my dad. She barely wore that anymore towards the end. She got it from her mum. Been in her family forever. I—I got—” He paused, swallowing hard. “One of the people from our street who pulled us out from under the rubble brought it to me when I was in the hospital. He’d taken it from Mum’s body. Said I should keep it—for when times got tough.” He scoffed, one corner of his mouth ticking up as he shook his head. “I knew times could never get so tough that I’d sell that ring though.”

Jemma felt tears stream down her own cheeks. “Oh, Fitz. Are you sure you don’t want to keep it?”

Fitz chuckled, lifting his shoulders. “You’ll keep it safe for me, won’t you? And as long as I can hold on to you, I’ll have the ring with me as well.”

Jemma relaxed, nodding in agreement. “I love you, Fitz,” she admitted quietly.

Fitz tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his thumb wiping away some of the watery trails her tears had left behind. “I love you, too.”

Jemma curled her hands around the back of Fitz’s neck, pulling him closer until they met in a tender kiss.

“Fitz,” Jemma breathed against his lips, feeling her stomach churn with longing.

“Hmm,” Fitz hummed, placing another soft kiss to her mouth.

“Make love to me.”

Fitz’s head darted back and he stared at her wide-eyed. “Now?”

Jemma nodded in silence, her fingers playing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

Fitz leaned down to kiss her again, allowing their tongues to dance. His hands pulled her closer, bunching up the fabric of her blouse, before he suddenly broke away. “I—think I want to wait.”

Jemma furrowed her brow in slight disappointment and confusion. “Really?”

Fitz nodded, placing one hand on his hip, while his fingers nervously scratched the skin below his ear. “I mean—I mean, I want to—really, really want to, but—” He took a step forward, cupping Jemma’s face and looking deep into her eyes. “But I also like the idea of waiting until we’re married. Is that terribly old-fashioned of me?”

Jemma couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes.” She pressed her palm against his cheek. “But it’s also rather sweet.”

His lips pulled into a relieved smile. “So, you’ll still marry me?”

Jemma chuckled, shrugging briefly and ticking her head to one side. “Well, I think I’ll have to, if I ever want to have sexual intercourse with you,” she teased.

He blushed slightly, but was unable to hide a laugh. “Maybe that was my plan all along.”

“That must have been it,” Jemma said suggestively, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pulling him closer for another kiss.

“So, could you imagine living here?” Fitz asked when he broke the kiss. “Making this our home?”

Jemma smiled at him, combing her fingers through his curls. “I decided that day by the ocean that my home was with you, so it doesn’t matter where we live, as long as we’re together. Though I think this could be beautiful indeed—” She pursed her lips, smirking mischievously. “—once you add indoor plumbing.”

Fitz chuckled, before bridging the gap between their lips. Jemma closed her eyes, savoring their kiss, the feeling of Fitz’s gentle hands roaming her back, his scent mixing with the unfamiliar smell of the old cottage.

 _There’s some truth to it, it seems_ , she thought. _Home is where the heart is._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus concludes the Rural Scotland AU that started out as a random one-shot without a background story :) Hope you liked it. [P.S. Not ruling out that I may add to this universe at a later point, but no immediate plans.]


End file.
